Tell me this isn't love;
Tell me I'm too young-
When I'm your age,
I'll look back at this poetry
and see that you were wrong.
Because when I look at him,
I see parts of the two of you.
When I look at him,
I see my angel come to rescue me.
I see an open, beautiful heart
that lets me poor mine into it;
I watch an ornery personality
that makes my heart beat louder.
I hear a hidden, charming accent
that puts a grin onto my face;
I listen to a wonderful laugh
that gets me laughing along.
I feel the love he casts onto me
and the intensity pulls me under;
I touch the bones of his back
and they are always
my favorite toy.
I smell his own scent
and it's the perfect perfume;
I sniff the calming- air around me
and I couldn't be happier.
I taste his soft lips on mine
and suddenly I'm relaxed;
I taste the soft skin of his neck
and it's a wondrous sensation.
I can never get him off my mind,
though i hardly ever try.
I never stop worrying about him,
not even when he's in my embrace.
I want to help solve his problems;
Know that he's emotionally OK.
Find compromises to suit us both;
I want to make him happy.
Sometimes all i want to say,
is 'i love you'
over and over-
and i mean it with every fiber.
Yet you tell me
I just don't understand,
that I'm too young,
that I'm not ready.
Tell me again;
Tell me this isn't love;
Tell me I'm too young;
Tell me this need I feel down deep,
the need just to know he's there,
is nothing like full love.
So that when I'm you're age,
I'll look back at this poetry
and see that you were wrong.